


The Voltron Aftershow

by squirenonny



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Ice Skating, Light Angst, Season 4 Spoilers, Set during S4E4, Team Bonding, followed by a healthy dose of, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 20:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: “This is the sort of work Voltron does?” Kolivan asked, cocking his head to the side.Keith hunched his shoulders, second-hand embarrassment making him want to curl up in a ball on the floor as his friends and teammates stuck cardboard boxes on their heads and… “formed” “Voltron.” “I swear we never did this when I was a paladin.”ORKeith gets to see the Voltron Show and has a little talk with the other paladins.





	The Voltron Aftershow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kakunamatatq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakunamatatq/gifts).



> Prompt comes from KM. ([Find out more here!](http://squirenonny.tumblr.com/private/163352586149/tumblr_otkspepIrB1ttvln6))
> 
> Prompt: "Keith watching one of Voltron's ice shows, then showing up at their dressing room afterward for another group hug/big fluff-filled temporary reunion."

Keith tugged his hood lower as he pressed in among the crowd. He had his mask on, as usual, but he still felt as though everyone around him were watching him. And, well… they _were_.

Kind of.

“ _This_ is the sort of work Voltron does?” Kolivan asked, cocking his head to the side.

Keith hunched his shoulders, second-hand embarrassment making him want to curl up in a ball on the floor as his friends and teammates stuck cardboard boxes on their heads and… “formed” “Voltron.” “I _swear_ we never did this when I was a paladin.” (And thank every god from here to the far end of the universe for that. Keith was having a hard enough time watching Allura shout cheesy catch-phrases and strike poses with the rest of the team, and she’d only briefly been introduced as him at the beginning of the show.)

Kolivan was silent for a long moment, his arms crossed. He, like Keith, wore his mask, but Keith didn’t need to see his face to know he was frowning. He usually was. The man reminded Keith of Shiro, in some ways, except that Shiro at least knew how to have fun. Hell, aside from Lance, Shiro was the only one who seemed to actually be getting into the weird-ass ice-show they were doing down there.

It was a grudging, self-conscious sort of enthusiasm, but he snapped into every dramatic action shot like his life depended on it, and he called the paladins to battle with as much passion as ever—and the crowd was eating it up.

Kolivan, in contrast, never smiled, he never lowered himself to playing make-believe in the name of winning allies, and he never deviated from the mission.

Except today.

“You are not a paladin now?” Kolivan asked. He had a way of speaking in a low rumble that was eaten up in the murmur of a crowd, and no one around them gave the two cloaked and hooded figures a second glance.

Keith wrapped his arms around himself, tearing his eyes away from the show unfolding on the ice below. The paladins had roped a couple of locals into playing Zarkon and Haggar, and the two villains-for-a-day were having great fun flinging ribbons and bursts of confetti around, tripping up the paladins with cringe-worthy “magic.”

“No,” he said. “Red chose Lance, and Shiro has always been the rightful pilot of the Black Lion. I’m a Blade now. End of story.”

Kolivan rumbled, the sound on the very edge of hearing. It was a vocalization Keith had heard from several of the Blades now, a thoughtful sound listing toward exasperation, and it rankled him now.

“ _What_?” Keith demanded.

Kolivan turned his head just a fraction, the tap of his fingers against his arm communicating a quelling frown. The Blades spent so much time in uniform that they’d developed a system of hand gestures and head tilts that left Keith feeling every bit as lost as when someone expected him to navigate the minefield of human facial expression.

This particular finger-tap was one Keith was quite familiar with, though. It meant he was being stupid, and Kolivan wanted him to “reign in” and “think things through.”

Growling, Keith pressed forward through the last line of spectators and claimed a spot along the railing, where he could breathe easier. Coming here had been a last-minute decision, an impulse brought on by a colorful poster on the side of a building and an unexpected longing for--

For something. For the castle-ship, with all its lonely corridors. For the Red Lion’s exuberance as they charged into battle and her chiding rumble whenever she came to save him from danger. For the space mice, despite their tendency to latch onto a secret and ride it to the bitter end.

For the other paladins, whose hands he could still feel burning beneath his skin. He carried their last hug with him everywhere, and his Marmora suit pressed uncomfortably against those handprints.

“You should speak with them,” Kolivan said, appearing silently at Keith’s shoulder. “After the show.”

Keith looked up sharply at him, surprise battling with terror and a simmering hunger in his chest. “I thought we had to get back to work. You--” Keith stopped himself before he pointed out that Kolivan had almost forbidden Keith to come to this show. Keith still wasn’t sure what it was that had changed his mind.

Kolivan’s broad hand swallowed Keith’s shoulder from his neck halfway down his bicep. “This mission is over. We can spare a varga for this.”

“But--”

“They are your kin,” Kolivan said, and Keith wasn’t sure whether he imagined the weight placed on the word _kin_. “I know the look of one who is missing their family. As long as we are here, you should take the opportunity to speak with them.”

* * *

_Speak with them._

Kolivan said it so matter-of-factly, as though it were as simple as calling out to the paladins as they left the ice. As if there weren’t weeks between them—weeks of no contact, of endless missions and a steadily growing list of dead allies, of _ice skating,_ apparently. Keith couldn’t help wondering whether they’d just been waiting for him to leave to do something like this. It was no secret, after all, that Keith wasn’t a showman.

His heart was in his throat as he made his way down toward the dressing rooms under Kolivan’s watchful eye. He wanted nothing more than to wriggle away and fade into the shadows until the castle-ship was long gone and the chance of a confrontation was nothing but a might-have-been.

Kolivan didn’t give him that option.

They kept to the back corridors, avoiding the event security (paltry next to a Blade’s skill in infiltration, never mind Zarkon’s raw might), event staff, and anyone else who might question the well-armed strangers sneaking around backstage. Eventually they came to the dressing rooms, where Kolivan took up post outside, gesturing for Keith to continue on.

He stepped in, and the sight of the empty room left him feeling at once desperately relieved and horribly knotted up inside. Had the others already come and gone? Or was he early? He didn't know which would be worse.

Voices from outside interrupted Keith’s internal panic, and he froze, instinctively searching for somewhere to hide.

The door opened before he could disappear, and Lance sauntered in, waving his helmet around like a sword and laughing about some part of the finale that hadn’t gone to plan. He half turned, already flashing that smarmy smile of his he reserved for pretty alien girls, but he froze for an instant when his eyes fell on Keith, then yelped and leaped backward into Hunk’s arms. "Holy quiznak!"

“Sorry,” Keith said, biting down on a smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“ _Keith!_ ” Pidge’s shout drowned out Lance’s feeble protests, and Keith only had a second’s warning before she broke away from the others and tackled him in a hug, her arms locking tight around his waist. “What are you doing here? Did you see the show?”

“I—uh—yeah.” Keith placed a hand awkwardly atop her head. “It was really… something.”

“Pretty awesome, right?” Lance recovered quickly from his fright but took advantage of his position in Hunk’s arms to strike a pose, one leg stuck out so far it was threatening to smack Allura’s eye. “Who do you think was the best out there? Me, right? It’s okay, you can say it. The others will learn to live with the disappointment.”

Keith snorted, giving Pidge’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’m not answering that.”

As Pidge finally stepped back, Hunk tipped Lance to the side, forcing him to stand under his own power, then came forward and lifted Keith off his feet. “ _Man_ it’s good to see you. How’ve you been?”

Keith had to take a moment just to breathe through Hunk’s rib-cracking hug. (Good  _lord_ , had his hugs always been so intense?) “Good,” he wheezed when Hunk finally put him down. Lance was there in an instant, leaping onto Keith’s back and wrapping his legs around Keith’s waist. Keith stumbled, and Shiro hurried forward to save him with a hand on either elbow.

“You should’ve told us you were coming!” Lance said. “We could’ve upped the razzle-dazzle!”

“Oh god,” Pidge muttered, horrified. “Please, no.”

Keith chuckled, leaning a little more heavily on Shiro as Lance climbed higher to avoid Allura’s efforts to drag him off Keith. “It wasn’t planned,” Keith said. “We happened to be here checking out a local we think might be helping Lotor, and we saw your flier.” He paused, rubbing his shoulder as Allura finally grabbed Lance in a choke hold and pulled him down. “So… Voltron Ice Capades. Not how I expected our reunion to go but, uh, cool?”

Hunk snorted. “Cool. Good one, Keith.”

Allura sighed, her arms still looped under Lance’s shoulders as he went limp, pouting up at her for stealing him away from his Keith-shaped perch. “It’s been an… _adventure_ for us, as well,” she said.

“So, should I be looking forward to any triple Salchows in your futures?” Keith asked, pulling away from Shiro to face the rest of the team.

Lance arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have pegged _you_ as the figure skating fan in the room,” he said.

Keith glanced sidelong at Shiro, smirking. “Yeah, well, _someone_ wanted to watch the last winter Olympics with me, then spent every commercial break educating me on the technical nuances of the competition. I swear to God there was about a week where I was convinced he was going to quit piloting to become a figure skater.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shiro said, giving Keith’s shoulder a shove. “I didn’t see you complaining about ditching class to watch the competition.”

“Sure. I got to ditch class.” Keith ducked another shove, grinning. “Besides, I was too busy worrying about your unhealthy obsession with the sport to string together a coherent sentence. On the rare occasion you shut up long enough for me to try.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open, a grin tugging at his lips. “Says the guy who begged me to teach him how to skate. Every day for three weeks.”

“Wait, you can skate?” Hunk asked, brightening. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go skate!”

Eyes widening, Keith held up his hands. “Now hold on. I don’t-”

“Hunk’s right,” Allura said, unceremoniously dropping Lance to take Keith by the arm. “You shouldn’t have to miss out on the fun just because Coran didn’t write you into the show.”

Keith craned his neck, searching for help. “Shiro. Come on. Tell them this is a bad idea.”

“Terrible,” Shiro said dryly. “You guys ever hear how he got himself banned from the Park Street Rink?”

“No,” Lance said at once, sounding entirely too eager.

Keith flushed. “That was _one_ time.”

“So you’re not going to do it again?”

“I will if you go telling the story.”

Shiro beamed. “Okay, then. I see no reason why you shouldn’t skate with us.”

Keith glowered at Shiro as Hunk laughed in delight. “Sorry,” Hunk said when Keith’s glare turned his way. “You walked right into that one.”

Keith huffed, but Lance was quick to take his other arm, helping Allura drag him toward the door, and by the time Pidge joined in with a shove to the small of Keith’s back, there was simply no fighting his fate.

* * *

“Now strike a pose!”

“Yeah...” Keith crossed his arms, skating backwards away from Lance, who’d just nearly brained himself on Hunk’s helmet as both dabbed at the same moment. “That’s not happening.”

Pidge cackled as Lance looked up over the crook of his elbow, crestfallen. He held the pose a moment longer, then finally gave up, his hands flopping toward his ankles. “Come _on_ , mullet! We’ve gotta at least do _one_ show with you!”

Keith laughed once, incredulously, as Hunk patted Lance on the back. Shiro was skating a lazy loop around the rink, his expression more peaceful than Keith had seen it in a long time. A  _long_ time. The stadium was deserted aside from the six of them and a handful of janitors working their way down the bleachers, collecting empty cups and sweeping up discarded food. Kolivan would be up there somewhere, too, Keith was sure, but he hadn’t yet appeared to tell Keith it was time to go.

Keith was grateful. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his team.

“We don’t even have a villain to fight,” he said. “How are we supposed to put on a show?”

“Ooh!” Allura turned her skates and came to a stop with a small spray of ice. “I’ll be the villain! Better than playing _you_ again,” she added with a wink, elbowing Keith in the side.

Keith snorted. “That was supposed to be _me_? I thought you were playing a caffeinated mouse with an ego. No wait, sorry. That’s Lance. I get the two confused.”

Lance clapped a hand to his chest. “Hey, now. I...” He hesitated for a moment, apparently trying to come up with a retort. That failing, he put a hand on Hunk’s shoulder for balance, lifted one foot, and ran two fingers along the blade, wiping off the ice shavings, which he then flicked at Keith’s face. “So _there_.”

“Very eloquent, Lance,” Keith said, tugging his hood up to wipe the ice from his cheek. He gave Allura an appraising look. “You really want to play the villain?”

She shrugged. “I think it could be fun.”

“I’m not doing cheesy fake fights with ribbons and laser pointers,” he warned.

A dangerous smile lit her face. “Are you suggesting we spar? On ice skates?”

Keith reached behind him, drawing his Blade. He flipped it, caught it in a reverse grip, and dropped low. “Ready when you are, Princess.”

She summoned her bayard in an instant, whip snaking out in a graceful arc even as Shiro turned with a cry of dismay. "Guys. Don't--"

It was too late. Keith charged forward, catching Allura’s whip on his dagger. She reversed, forcing him to turn aside and put some more distance between them. His feet wobbled a bit—he wasn’t much more than competent at ice skating, really, having had only a couple of afternoons’ practice with Shiro before the Kerberos mission. But it was all about balance and momentum, and Keith had both in spades. How hard could this really be?

He came in for another pass, grinning as Lance and Pidge cheered him on. (Cheered them both on, really; Lance couldn’t seem to decide whether to tell Keith to _go for it_ or Allura to _take him down!_ ) Hunk, meanwhile, seemed worried one of them was going to end up hurt, and Shiro just kept huffing loudly to make his irritation known.

“You know you’d rather do this than ‘razzle-dazzle,’ Shiro, come on!” Keith called, spreading his arms wide as he looped around behind Allura. Shiro rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, and that was all the encouragement Keith needed. He pivoted, meeting Allura’s eyes. “I hope you’re ready.”

“You think you can defeat me?” she cried with a cartoonishly villainous swagger. “Ha! Do your worst, paladin!”

Her words stoked a fire in his chest, and he cast all his inhibitions aside as he charged forward. He kept his Blade low, his eyes following the path of Allura’s whip. It hissed as she scraped it along the ice, and then suddenly it was flying toward him, the wicked metal tip glinting in the stadium lights.

Roaring, Keith swung his dagger up to meet the strike, and a flick of his wrist entangled their weapons, preventing Allura from launching a counter-attack to drive him off again. Her eyes widened, and she yanked backward on her bayard, but Keith pulled back just as hard, the tension dragging him toward Allura at dizzying speed.

His weapon, of course, was caught as surely as Allura’s—but that was fine. As he drew near, he turned, lifting his right foot in a roundhouse kick, the blade of his skate slicing toward Allura’s breastplate. She yelped, flicked her whip--

And the next thing Keith knew, he was flat on his back, sliding to a stop at Allura’s feet. She peered down at him, sheepish.

“Sorry. I suppose I should have realized your footing would be precarious on the ice.”

Keith blinked, and then a laugh bubbled up out of him. He rolled over, accepting Allura’s hand up as Shiro slid into view, a reprimand written on his face.

“I thought we agreed you _weren’t_ going to use your skates as knives again.”

“ _Again?_ ” Pidge whispered, her hands clapped over her mouth to hide a grin. “Oh my god, Keith, what did you _do_?”

Keith scratched the back of his head. “I mean, what did you expect? You strap daggers to my shoes and of _course_ I think about how to use them in a fight.”

Shiro spread his hand across his face, shoulders shaking with silent laughter as Hunk slammed into Keith from behind and grabbed his shoulders in a hug. Startled, Keith reached up with his free hand and latched onto Hunk's wrist.

“Come on, you guys,” Hunk said seriously— _too_ seriously. Keith gave him a suspicious frown that Hunk, of course, ignored. “It’s only natural he would think like that. I mean, the guy went off to _become_ a Blade. Of _course_ he wants blade-shoes.”

A beat of silence followed this statement.

Keith burst out laughing again as Lance squawked in outrage, Pidge bending double as a giggle fit overtook her.

“Hunk!” Lance wailed. “That was terrible!”

“Keith thinks it’s funny,” Hunk said.

“Oh, and Keith is our pun-meter now?”

Hunk shrugged. “It can’t be any of the rest of you. Pidge thinks every pun is hilarious; you hate them all on principle, even when you secretly love them; Allura and Coran miss half the jokes because puns don’t really translate; and Shiro always has that same bland smile, like you could be literally stabbing him with a piece of broken glass and he’d just be happy you’re happy.”

“Hey!” Shiro protested. “I don’t do that.”

“You do,” Keith said, holding his stomach as he fought down another bout of laughter. “But only when you’re trying not to do your ugly laugh.”

Every head whipped around. “His what, now?” Lance asked, delighted.

Keith opened his mouth to elaborate, but just then he caught sight of Kolivan in the stands. He had his mask on, his arms loose at his side. There was nothing about his posture to indicate impatience, but Keith knew all the same—it was time to go.

Laughter fading, he nodded, then turned back to the others. Their gloomy expressions told him they'd noticed the change and guessed what it meant. Pidge sneaked a look at Kolivan, a hint of a pout reaching her lips.

“Sorry, guys,” Keith said, sheathing his knife. “Duty calls.”

Pidge bit her lip, then turned without a word and sprinted for the edge of the ice, hauling herself over the boards and disappearing from the stadium without even pausing to remove her skates. Keith felt a pang of guilt watching her go, and a heavy sense of disappointment. She could have at least stayed to say goodbye.

Forcing a smile, Keith turned back to the others. “Good luck with the, uh, show, I guess?”

Shiro was the first to come forward, wrapping Keith in an embrace. “It was good to see you, Keith.”

“You too,” Keith mumbled into Shiro’s shoulder. He allowed himself only a moment to linger in the hug, knowing if he dawdled he never be able to make himself leave.

“You’re coming back, right?” Hunk asked, wringing his hands. “I mean, okay, yeah. I know what you’re doing with the Blade is important and all, but after that? You’ll come back to the castle?”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat. Come back? “Hunk...” He trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words. He'd never let himself consider that this might be a temporary separation. (Five lions. Six paladins. The math would never work out.)

“It’s your choice, of course,” Allura said, laying a hand on his arm. “But you will always be a part of this team. And... Well, to be honest, the castle feels empty without you.”

Now there were tears gathering in Keith’s eyes, and he pulled away, laughing to cover his slip. “Yeah, okay,” he said, putting as much disdain into his voice as he could. He’d spent the last few weeks doing everything he could not to think of this ache in his chest as homesickness, but there was no other word that fit.

He didn’t think he’d ever been homesick before. He'd never stuck around long enough for that.

He turned, ready to run away to the soothing anonymity of the Blade, only to find Lance blocking his path. He had his gloves off and was chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes fixed on his skates and only occasionally darting up to Keith’s face. “I know you lived in a shack in the desert back on Earth,” he said dryly, “but you aren’t _actually_ going to run off and become a space hermit, are you? Cause I’ll be honest. You can’t pull off the whole Obi-Wan schtick.”

Keith smiled weakly. “I’m not turning into a hermit,” he said, tasting the lie on his tongue. “I just—I really do have to go. Important Blade business and—and stuff.”

Lance stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded and shuffled to the side. Keith squared his shoulders and skated past, staring at Kolivan so he didn’t have to see the disappointment on his friends’ faces. (Disappointment? Or just a facsimile of it? He didn’t know, and he was afraid to find out they were only putting on a show of being sad to see him leave.)

“ _Wait!_ ”

Pidge’s voice rang in the rafters, pulling Keith up short. He turned, blinking as she skidded to a stop before him, grabbing onto his arm to keep from falling. She was out of breath, her face red and streaked with sweat.

“Pidge. What--?”

“Here.” She shoved something at him. A black rectangle with an orange screen sat in the palm of her hand like some sort of alien smartphone, and Keith took it reluctantly. “I’ll get another one from the rebels, in case I need to find you, but this one’s good luck. I mean, it  _did_ lead me to my brother.” She paused, laughing tearfully. “Just do me a favor and make sure it doesn’t lead me to another grave, would you?”

Keith looked up at her, heart in his throat. “ _Another_ grave?”

She waved her hand. “Not a real one. Matt’s just an ass who faked his own death to dodge the bounty on his head.”

“That sounds like quite the story.”

“It is.” Pidge grinned. “I’ll tell you next time you come home.”

Home.

The word reverberated in his chest, warming him through. He closed his fingers around the communicator, then tucked it into a hidden compartment near his heart. “Next time I’m home,” he said. “It’s a promise.”


End file.
